The Sky Above
by Kiaranassimu
Summary: The war is over but Fate has plans still for Harry Potter, even after he has died. So his soul is placed into a new body, and a new war. But this time losing will have an even greater impact - a world wide impact. The talking dragons are the least of his concerns now...
1. Prologue

**Story Name:** The Sky Above

**Prologue: **The Egg and The Dragon

**Warnings:** Massively AU, OOC occasionally, blood gore and murder, slash, het, torture, cursing, graphic imagery, general strangeness, creature!Harry, dragon shenanigans, and anything else I might think of!

**Summary: **The sky has called to him from the first time he flew. And the dragons have called to him from the first time he saw one hatch. So is it really any shock that he would want to become one, really? But not matter how powerful, a wizard cannot turn into a magical animal. But Fate has plans for Harry Potter, and as he dies she takes his soul and puts it into a new body. One that will feel more like himself than his old body had ever been. But dreams rarely have happy endings, and this is no exception. And so he finds himself drawn into another war, but this one is so much worse and he finds that he has to win at all costs. Because the ending will be so much worse if he loses than he or anyone else can think. The talking dragons are the least of his problems now…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Temeraire. There will also be mentions of How to Train Your Dragon and Elder Scrolls: Skyrim, which I also don't own. If I did I would be filthy rich and would be the proud owner of baby Toothless/Temeraire hybrids. Since neither of these things are true I must not own them, so very sad.

**Authors Notes: **Sorry I haven't been around lately. I would love to give some fabulous reason that would make sense but really I just didn't feel like writing. I have not abandoned my other stories, I just need a break from them. I will probably post what I have for them soonish though, so keep an eye out for that. This chapter also jumps through a lot of Harry's life, important bits anyway, or rather things, I deem important. So enjoy this prologue and tell me if I should continue this or not. Read and review!

* * *

He thinks it might have all started with the egg.

It was so small, so fragile. He wasn't sure how it could actually contain life, but it did. He watched it every day and he was there when it hatched.

It was a nice day out in the garden where the egg was. He was crouched down because it rested just underneath one of the rose bushes. His aunt would be upset with him if she found out about the existence of the egg, but he was too entranced by it to worry about any possible consequences,

The egg rocked around a bit and that was what made him watch more intently than he ever had before. Before it was just a tiny egg sitting oh so very still and quiet, but now, now it was moving and rocking and he could see a crack form in the surface as he stared. It was small but grew bigger as what was inside fought so desperately to get out. Slowly, almost aggravatingly, a part of the shell started lifting away, some strange clear globby thing holding it to the main body of the egg.

He leaned closer, trying to see into the egg, into what was there, the new life pushing out, but was unable to. He sat back and continued watching as the minutes past by and more pieces lifted away to reveal a small brownish thing pushing harder and harder against its confines. As though it knew how close it was to being born and wanted it all the more quickly because of that.

The thing, when it was finally hatched, was very small and fragile looking, just like the egg it once resided in. It was brown, and kind of puffy. It didn't have eyes that he could see and it had a strange protrusion from what had to be its face that it opened up and made noises with. It's mouth, then, but looked like no mouth he had ever seen. But that was okay, because it wasn't human, and so it had to look differently than a human would.

He had no idea what it was, but he carefully reached out with a finger to touch it gently on the head. It was so small his finger looked so big next to it, and it was soft but kind of wet from the globby stuff inside the egg. He also picked up a tiny piece of its shell that was still intact and decided he would keep it so he would always remember the tiny brown thing.

Knowing its mum would not come to see it until he was gone, and also knowing that he had been sitting silent for so long his aunt was sure to come outside and make sure he wasn't getting into trouble, he turned around and rushed back to the house.

It was only later when he talked to the nice cat lady who watched him sometimes that he learned that the tiny brown thing was a baby bird. A robin, to be precise, when he showed the lady the piece of egg he took. He also found it was called Robin's Egg Blue. It became his favorite color that day, and a young Harry Potter kept it on his person every day until it broke one year later.

* * *

He was eleven years old, and he was a wizard. He was a wizard, and his parents had been magical as well, and now he was going to their school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was magical in every sense of the word, but for all the good there was also the bad.

This, however, was not one of them.

Flying, nothing but the wind and his broomstick, the barely there keeping him air-born. He had never felt so alive, so free. The sky was the limit. This was what he was meant to be doing. This was something he was perfect for, the only thing he didn't have to be taught or struggle with. There was nothing that could take this feeling away from him. He wanted it to last forever, nothing but him and the sky.

His hair was ruffled by the wind and his black robes were snapping behind his, and a joy so fierce, so powerful, bubbled up in him and threatened to take his breath away. He wanted to laugh, wanted the whole world to hear how happy he was in that moment.

He turned the broom just a bit, raised it a little higher so he was at the same level as Draco Malfoy, the boy who laughed at Neville who broke his wrist. The boy how took his Rememberall. The reason he was in the sky.

He would thank the boy if he wasn't such a git.

But now he had to lean into the wind and push the broomstick faster because Malfoy had thrown the glass ball and it was gracefully arching into the air away, away, and falling.

He moved faster and faster in a steep angle towards the ball. The wind whistled in his ears and his heart was pumping with excitement. He was so close and he reached out with one hand. He could see the sun glint sharply off the curve of the Rememberall, bright and golden. And then his hand clasped tight around the cold glass, and the ground was only a foot away. He pulled up on the end of the broom and straightened out just in time to gentle tumble onto the grass.

And while McGonagall was storming over, his name on her lips, his heart sunk almost as fast as he had dived before he opened his hand and saw the Rememberall gleaming, whole and unbroken, in his fist.

And he smiled as the smoke whirled around, white as a cloud, inside the glass orb.

* * *

It was several years later and he wasn't that same five year old boy watching a bird hatch for the first time. No, this was something far more important. He was sitting in a hut and getting ready to watch another egg hatch and deliver its contents into the world of the living.

But just like that baby robin so long ago this egg was rocking back and forth one the wooden table, getting faster and faster until he was almost certain it would start hopping around and fall off the table. It was black and much larger than the tiny blue egg, but that was to be expected since the baby inside was going to be much larger than a bird. It was a dragon inside that egg. One of those great beasts of fantasy – or it once was, back before he became something of fantasy as well – and one of the few magical creatures he was most excited about seeing.

He only hoped his expectations weren't so high that he was disappointed in the result.

Several cracks ran across the smooth surface of the egg. He could hear the dragon moving around inside, there were several clicks against the inside of the egg. Harry shifted a little closer in his seat mirrored by the others sitting around the table and watching the egg. But he was only vaguely aware of them, he was focused on that black egg and everything that it was.

Almost at once the egg stopped rocking and, with a sharp crack, broke almost perfectly in half, disgorging its contents onto the table. The dragon was tiny and black. And, to be honest, it wasn't at all pretty. Its wings were large and crumpled, looking like the wrinkled folds of a closed umbrella. Its body was skinny with a row of spikes down its back, stubby little horns and wide nostrils on its elongated gator-like face. But most disconcerting was the large bulging orange eyes.

Then it sneezed and shot sparks out of its mouth.

Harry smiled a bit at that, so it seemed dragons really could breathe fire. Hagrid was cooing something and petting the little dragon on the head. It didn't seem to like that very much for it snapped sharp fangs at him and almost caught his fingers. There goes Harry's urge to reach out and see if the baby dragon's scales felt as soft as they currently looked. That was too bad; they would probably toughen up over the next day or two.

Hermione asked how fast it would take for the little dragon to grow up. This, now that Harry thought about it, was a very good question. The hut wouldn't be able to hold a full grown dragon because, no matter how small the baby was now, it would get bigger and it would get a lot bigger.

Unfortunately things got worse from there with Malfoy spotting the dragon from outside the window and running back to the castle.

They were going to be in so much trouble…

Oh, and who named a dragon Norbert, anyway?

* * *

The arena was a wide circle with stands rising up around one half. There were hundreds and hundreds, faces he knew and so many more that he didn't but now he could hardly focus, they all blurred together. Everything blurred together, the rocky ground stretching in front of him, the stands around him, and if Harry turned around the tunnel he just came out of would twist and turn into a hungry mouth ready to eat him. Everything was wrong, except for one thing. The important thing.

The dragon.

Hungarian Horntail, to be exact.

She was huge, easily twenty feet tall to the shoulder. Her black body was bulky, thickly muscled and thickly scaled. Her wings were clasped to her sides and her tail, long and covered in long bronze spikes, swiped over the ground leaving yard long gauges in the rock. Yellow eyes gleamed maliciously out of her face, her broad muzzle split open for a moment, revealing sharp fangs and a wicked forked tongue. There was a spark in the back of her throat, he could see it clear as day what with her being so big and aiming her mouth at him but he was only thinking this for a moment because next he had to duck and twist behind a huge rock sticking up from the ground as the dragon's fire washed around the spire, lapping the sides with burning flame and superheating the ground.

Harry gasped slightly as the heat seeped from the rock into his back. He jerked away sharply before brandishing his wand and shouting to the sky to summon his broom to his person.

He pushed out from behind the rock and ran a short distance away, but a sharp whooshing sound drew his attention and he looked up and over just in time to see his Firebolt bearing down on him at the same time the Horntail let loose with another blast of fire, this one a more orangish-red and stretching farther out to the sides.

He jumped into the air, snagged the broom, and shot off out of the path of flames as soon as he swung his leg over the handle. The large dragon roared in anger, thwarted again from burning him to cinders. He twisted about into air so that he was facing her, high enough above her head that she couldn't snap at him or breathe fire at him.

Looking down he could see the nest of eggs as she stretched herself towards him as far as she could without leaving the ground. The eggs were grouped between her legs, her larger cement-colored eggs dwarfing the smaller gleaming gold egg. But how would he get to it with the great beast standing over them like that? He would have to get her farther away from them, she was big so she would move slower than he would, if he could get her in the air then he could dart past her and get the egg. Because he needed the egg to pass the test.

It sucked hat he had to go against a dragon, because, while he had liked Norbert when he was small and had read more about dragons because they had always been his favorite, they scared the daylights out of him. They were so powerful, so wild, everything that was free and great about the magical world, and they were the most dangerous. He thought, briefly, that it would be amazing to ride on the back of a dragon, if it were possible. Which it wasn't. Only trained groups of wizards could take them down and it was beyond illegal to own one as a pet. But if he could, he would want one.

Who wouldn't want a dragon?

Still, a small part of him grinned at having to go against a dragon. A larger part grinned at having to get an egg. The largest part of him was snarling and calling himself a fool.

Maybe he was.

But he was going to get that bloody egg.

So, taking a deep breath and shutting down the largest part of himself that was screaming and begging to run away – he was a Griffindor and they do not run away from danger – he dropped towards the dragon and shot off past her into the sky again. He could hear her wings snap open and beat the wind. Thunder ripped through the sky with each beat and she heaved herself air-born.

He looked back and saw her straining to reach him, and just then did he notice the chain. It was thick iron but it was much too small to actually keep her down if she wanted to fly. And she did. That Horntail wanted him and with a roar and a short burst of flame, the chain snapped with a crack like a gunshot. But louder, so much louder.

Harry cursed and flew off, hearing and feeling the dragon as she got closer to him.

Now things got interesting.

He grinned.

* * *

He should have known better.

Things had been getting steadily worse as the war became known and Death Eaters stepped out of hiding. And him, being Harry bloody Potter, was smack dab in the center of the whole mess. So when his seventeenth birthday came around and it was time for him to leave his Aunt's house for good, well, he just knew that things were going to turn out badly. And that was before he found out about the polyjuice potion his friends were going to take. He really wanted to know why they were listening to Mundungus's idea in the first place.

Seven Harry Potters. Somewhere, Fate was having a hernia and Luck was getting rip-roaring drunk.

So he watched as his friends partnered up in pair and he was told to go with Hagrid. Hagrid was happy though, he brought Harry to Privet Drive and he was going to be the one to take him away. Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the half-giant's enthusiasm before frowning again as he climbed into the side-car attached to the flying motorbike.

He liked flying, really, but he would much rather have flown on a broom, or even a thestral. But he didn't have much time to think about it before they were air-born and rising into the clouds.

Where all Hell broke loose and Death Eaters were flying around attacking everyone.

Then it was just all he could do to hold onto his wand and cast as many _Stupifys_ as he could while Hagrid tried to get them out of harm's way. He was looking around furiously, trying to keep an eye on everyone and everything, but it was turning into one big blur.

The Death Eaters were clouds of smoke streaming through the air as they flew in a way he had only ever seen once before. Flashes of sharply colored light glittered and reflected across his glasses, almost blinding him and making things seem so much worse. And the screams, he wasn't sure if it was the wind or the people but he just wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to stop.

But it wouldn't and he was casting spells and trying to ignore the bodies as they fell from the sky, knowing that the Death Eaters deserved worse for what they were doing but wishing it wasn't his hand that was casting them down.

And they were flying and flying and as much as he loved the sky right now he wished he was anywhere but there. And as things got worse – Hedwig falling from the sky in a blast of green light knowing, knowing, she would never fly again – and Voldemort himself showed up, Harry could only feel a sense of detachment. He knew things would get bad.

Oh how he wished he had been wrong.

* * *

Gringotts. The wizarding world's bank - run by goblins and controlled by Death Eaters. Harry wanted to snarl under his cloak as they invaded. Hermione as Bellatrix, Ron as some unknown and unwanted Death Eater, and the goblin that was holding them up, asking for the wand that was wrong but right and Harry had to use one of the Unforgivables to get them by. Griphook's arms tightened around his neck but there was nothing that he could do. They needed to get to the vault.

Needed to get the Horcrux.

Needed to end the war before more people died.

And Harry would do whatever was needed to ensure that it happened.

The cart ride was uneventful up until the point where they were tossed out and the polyjuiced disguises were ripped away in a rush of cold water magic. The goblin's _Imperius_ was washed away as well but it only took a moment to re-apply it. Then they were off, running before reinforcements could come. Running into the bowels of the bank, deeper and deeper still.

Until they came to the vault.

And the white dragon that was guarding it.

Harry wanted to cry and scream in equal measure. How could they get past a dragon, even one as old, half-blind and injured and this one? And who would do that to a dragon, those magical beasts that made his heart sing and made his fingers itch to grab a broom and go flying just so he could feel as free as they. But this one was not free. And it hurt to see it. It hurt even worse when the goblin grabbed golden noise-makers and beat them. the sound echoed and the dragon cringed –cringed! – away from the sound.

Griphook whispered that they were trained to move away from the noise, called the trainers Clangers. And his voice, already snide and vicious just for being a goblin, was made so much worse so with the realization that Griphook approved. If Harry had felt guilt for knowing he was going to break their bargain, he felt it vanish then and there.

But they were in the vault and had to grab the cup and he couldn't worry about the dragon at that time. They had to hurry, and Hermione and Ron were searching with him. But every time they touched something it multiplied while burning whatever touched it.

Finally, finally the cup was located and he had to hurry. He bull-rushed it, trying not to cry out as he was burned, ignoring the cascading metal and gold of objects replicating and replicating again. He grabbed the cup just as his head went under the flood of precious objects. He was suffocating, buried in an avalanche of gold and gems.

Then he was free falling out back into the corridor with the dragon and his friends, and Griphook was running away with Griffindor's sword calling to the reinforcements that had just arrived.

They were trapped.

Harry felt his gaze get drawn to the dragon just as it let out a blast of flame and burned the _Imperioed_ goblin to dust. Maybe they weren't as stuck as he thought they were.

It was reckless, and dangerous, and they leapt onto the dragon's back while the Death Eaters cast curses at them because they were Griffindore's and it was the only thing that they could do no matter how reckless, no matter how dangerous. The dragon roared and breathed fire at those striking it. Its great white wings snapped open and for the first time in its life it tried to fly away, angered beyond all thought and not even caring about the noises that came trying to scare it away. It jumped and pushed forcing its way upwards and breaking everything in its path to the sky.

Harry ducked as the ceiling broke and broke again as they made their way into Gringotts proper before breaking up once more and out into Diagon Alley. He was barely aware of the screaming populace because he was riding a dragon. They were flying higher into the sky and he could feel the great beast's muscles clenching and bunching as the wings propelled them further into the sky. It was glorious, marvelous, and all things good.

It was freedom.

And the dragon roared at the horizon, sending out its largest burst of flames yet.

And Harry grinned and wondered now what it would be like to fly as a dragon, instead of on top of one.

* * *

He sighed as he wiped sweat off his forehead. Charlie hadn't been kidding when he said working at a dragon reserve was tough work, but Harry knew there was nothing he would rather do after all the times he had gotten up close and personal with the great beasts. And after the war was over and he had finished his schooling, he had gone straight to Romania and told them he wanted to be a dragon handler.

Charlie and the other workers had only been too happy to let him join up, but they would not let his status as 'Savior of the Wizarding World' do him any favors. And that was just how Harry wanted it.

He was glad no one here cared that he defeated the world's worst dark wizard. And when everyone got angry about him not joining the Aurors and started talking badly about him once again – calling him a coward and some even going so far as to proclaim him the next dark lord, ha! – the dragons didn't care. All they wanted was food, and if he was in the way then they would happily eat him as well.

But things calmed down quickly, they couldn't stay mad to long and they defiantly didn't stand for those calling him the next Voldemort. He was loved, he was worshiped, he had women and men falling after him and begging him to marry them. But all he wanted was his dragons.

And now was one of the days he had been waiting for. Norbert had mated with the Horntail and their small clutch of eggs was hatching. If Norbert hadn't remembered him – and he's not quite sure why he was so friendly but assumed that was the case – then Harry is sure the momma Horntail would still be trying to burn him so ashes.

She just wouldn't get over the TriWizard Tournament.

Thankfully they were away and he was in charge of the three eggs. He was amazed at their size because both the Ridgeback and Horntail had fairly small eggs. These were easily twice the size that they should be, and instead of being a solid color, they were mottled black and gray. He was excited to see the hatching, maybe they would be a new breed!

And so he watched and waited as the eggs rocked and cracked softly. He kept an eye on the sky as well, noticing the slow movement of the sun in the clear blue. And just as he looked down at the eggs one gave way with a sudden crack and the dragon fell out onto the sandy rock.

It was beautiful and ugly at the same time. The baby dragon had a sleek black body like its father with the ridge of spines down its back. Its wings were oversized crinkled, with bronze striped though the membrane. Its head was long and angular, with bronze horns coming from its head and bright yellow eyes. But its tail was where you could really see its mother. Bronze stubs of horns sprouted all over the clubbed tail and scratched the rock as it moved. The baby dragon opened its mouth and spat a short burst of fire at Harry before sneezing and falling over with a loud squeak.

He laughed, he couldn't help it. So small and so fierce, it defiantly took after its mother in the temperament department no matter its looks taking after its father. Harry smiled and cooed at it, offering it a small piece of meat from the bucket he had kept beside him, and watched the other eggs, waiting for them to hatch as well.

Watching as the triplets crawled all over each other and begged for more food he couldn't help but think back, way back, to his very first hatching. He had been so little and that baby bird had been so important to him. He reached over, unable to help himself, and picked up a piece of discarded eggshell. He lifted it into the sky, watched the sun reflect dully of the curve, and grinned.

It had, really, all started with an egg.

And now, it ended with a dragon.

* * *

He had tried for so long how to turn into an Animagus. He had researched – oh Hermione had laughed herself silly over how much he had researched – but he couldn't find his answer anywhere.

He had wanted to know if it was possible to turn into a magical creature. He knew that, at the moment the witch or wizard chose the animal they wanted to become they would be stuck with that animal, so he wanted to know one hundred percent that he could or couldn't before he even attempted to become and Animagus. But the research was discouraging. No where could he find that it was possible to become a magical creature. Oh sure Sirius had turned into what people called a Grimm, but he was really nothing more than a great black dog.

If Harry couldn't be a dragon then he didn't even want to try for anything else would just be settling for lesser and he wouldn't do that to himself.

It took quite a few years and a lot of help before he gave it up as a lost cause. Hermione had found a small old book that had talked briefly about the Animagus transformation. In it the book had stated that despite popular belief it was impossible to turn into a magical creature. They simply required more magic than a witch or wizard had, and trying to become something that their core couldn't handle was immediately fatal.

That was that and Harry shook his head and threw all of his research away.

So what if he couldn't have his dream of flying as a dragon. He didn't really need to anyway.

He had his big girl Hedwig for that, the first born hatchling of Norbert and the Horntail. She was temperamental and oftentimes more apt to try to eat him than to let him ride her, but they had worked it out – somehow and Harry is still not really sure why she lets him ride her, but he's not complaining! – and so he had his own personal dragon, sort of.

And if anyone complained, well, Hedwig made sure they didn't complain long.

The Horntail still didn't like him, though.

* * *

Harry Potter knew he was dying, he could feel it as he lay on his bed in the dragon reserve. He had spent his whole life after Hogwarts looking after dragons, watching new clutches hatch and old beasts die. He had buried Norbert and the Horntail a long time ago, and their first hatchling not long after. So many dragons had come and gone and he loved everyone of those vicious, bloodthirsty, temperamental, magical creatures. And now, now it was his time to pass.

After so many years he was ready for it. He wanted to see his family, his loved ones. But he was also waiting, wishing, for his next great adventure.

He only hoped it had dragons in it.

And as he closed his eyes, and breathed his last, he smiled. He dreamed of great wings beating the sky with the sound of thunder. Fire bursting from open maws to scorch the ground and roast the sky. He dreamed of the sky above his head, the horizon in front of his eyes, and the ground beneath his feet. He dreamed of dragons, and in his dreams he was a dragon himself.

* * *

Somewhere Fate smiled and took the soul of Harry Potter. His job was not yet done, oh no. So Fate took his soul and placed it in its next body.

And in another land, another universe, a great egg started rocking.

* * *

**Chapter Length:** 4854 words

**Another Note: **So there you go the prologue to my new story. Not sure if I'll do anything with it though, but if I get a good response then maybe I'll pump out the next chapter where the fun would really get started! So tell me what you think!


	2. Prologue Two

**Story Name:** The Sky Above

**Prologue Two: **Empty

**Warnings:** Massively AU, OOC occasionally, blood gore and murder, slash, het, torture, cursing, graphic imagery, general strangeness, creature!Harry, dragon shenanigans, and anything else I might think of!

**Summary: **The sky has called to him from the first time he flew. And the dragons have called to him from the first time he saw one hatch. So is it really any shock that he would want to become one, really? But no matter how powerful, a wizard cannot turn into a magical animal. But Fate has plans for Harry Potter, and as he dies she takes his soul and puts it into a new body. One that will feel more like himself than his old body had ever been. But dreams rarely have happy endings, and this is no exception. And so he finds himself drawn into another war, but this one is so much worse and he finds that he has to win at all costs. Because the ending will be so much worse if he loses than he or anyone else can think. The talking dragons are the least of his problems now…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Temeraire. There will also be mentions of How to Train Your Dragon and Elder Scrolls: Skyrim, which I also don't own. If I did I would be filthy rich and would be the proud owner of baby Toothless/Temeraire hybrids. Since neither of these things are true I must not own them, so very sad.

**Authors Notes: **Okay, so this is actually kind of like a second prologue. It is a lot shorter, and I apologize, but this is how it was supposed to be. Next chapter will actually have more in it and there might actually be the beginnings of a plot if you close one eye and squint. Until then, enjoy this chapter, which gives a bit more of an in-depth look at Harry. As always, read and review. And look at the note at the bottom please!

* * *

Dying was easy.

Sirius had once told him, long ago, that dying was like falling asleep. It was easy and painless, and so simple to do. Close your eyes and let everything fall away until there was nothing but darkness and silence. It should have been scary, and he should have rebelled against it with every fiber of his being. He should have wanted something different. But the simple truth of the matter was that he didn't. He was old and grey-haired, and he had lived a long full life with many happy moments and very few regrets. After all, one hundred and thirty-four wasn't that short of a life span in the least. And he was glad that almost a hundred of those years had dragons in them.

So dying was simple and easy for him. Like going to sleep after a nice long day. And the darkness didn't bother him in the least. It was peaceful and he would have smiled if he could have. He stayed that way for a little while, just basking in the peace and the silence. He wasn't entirely sure, but for a long while, he knew, he could have spent eternity there, and he would be happy. Eyes closed and relaxed while nothing could bother him, nothing could touch him there.

But was death supposed to stay like that? Endless darkness, endless silence?

Harry wasn't quite sure.

It wasn't like this the first time he died, where he woke up naked on a cold white floor after a few moments of darkness. Surely he wasn't going to wake up in a clean and empty King's Cross Station this time, but he expected something _more_ at the very least. Especially after however long he had been in the dark already. Seemed like several hours at the very least.

After all he remembered another man telling him how death was going to be his next adventure. If anything it was turning out to be more of a bore. And where was his family? His friends? Everyone who had died before him? He could have sworn that the afterlife would be a little bit more friendly and welcoming.

But it was nothing like that. As a matter of fact, it was nothing at all.

Maybe he was missing something. Surely death was more than just a lot of darkness and silence. Maybe he had to wake up, open his eyes and see. So he did. Or, rather, Harry thought he did. There was no change. So he tried again.

And again.

It hadn't been this hard to wake up the first time. But then, that wasn't really death in so much as he was just in a strange state of semi-unconsciousness or astral plane walking or some other thing that no one could really do but he could because he is Harry Potter.

Maybe in the afterlife he had no eyes because for the life of him he couldn't get them to open. So he tried reaching out to see if he was laying on something and came across the same problem. How does one tell if they are lying down if they have no hands to feel with? He couldn't feel his hands, or his arms, or his legs. And it was starting to worry him a bit. Death was a bit more complicated than he first thought.

He stopped trying to move or do anything because that was getting him nowhere fast. Instead he just laid there – or floated there as the case may have been. He would have to think of something because this nothingness would drive him crazy sooner or later.

Most likely sooner than later.

* * *

He decided that death was something like a sense deprivation chamber. He was floating in black nothingness. He couldn't see anything, hear anything, or touch anything. And it was soothing and hard to handle at the same time. He wanted something else, anything else. He also wondered why in he world anyone would put themselves through something like this. Was there a meaning behind it? Maybe this was Purgatory, or something. Or whatever that in-between place was called where the soul waited until it was judged.

In that case, there was a really long waiting line. Maybe he should get one of those paper number tickets? Harry wished that he could have at least waited with someone. Then he might not have been so bored. Or so lonely.

He missed his dragons.

Hell, he even missed bloody Malfoy! And that was saying something since they still didn't get along, even after Harry testified for him at court and managed to get him out of a sentence to Azkaban.

If he could groan and punch something he would. Heck, he didn't even have to punch anything, but if he could just make some sort of sound, some sort of movement. He would give anything to have an eyebrow just so he could feel it twitching! As it was all he did was float. The darkness was everywhere. He couldn't escape it.

He was going to go mad. Maybe he already was mad. After all, wasn't he just wishing he had a twitchy eyebrow, and who in their right minds would want one of those? He couldn't even remember how long he had been in the damn darkness. A second, an hour, an eon? Time passed strangely. If it even passed at all.

And wasn't that a thought that made him wish he could get rip roaring drunk in a way he hadn't been since the war first ended. If time never passed then he would never get out of there, and if he could never get out of there, well, that was a thought not even worth thinking about unless he wanted to go so completely mad that he would be completely unrecognizable.

But, as previously mentioned, that was something he would not even bother to think about. There was no use in worrying over something that might not happen. Besides, he was Harry Potter, and if there was a way out of this God forsaken emptiness, then he would find it. He only needed some time, and well, he had a whole lot of that. He would wait and think a little while longer, and if he had yet to think of a way out of this situation by the time he started losing his mind, then he would start worrying.

* * *

He was remembering things he had long forgotten about. People and places and things that had once been so important to him but had faded with his time in the darkness. He reached back, searching, scouring every corner of his mind until he could find something important to think of, to hold on to in the vast emptiness. Something that would help keep him sane and remind him of being Harry.

He remembered how bright Hermione was back when they were younger, always helping him out with his homework even when he didn't ask for it. She grew up into such a strong witch and woman, a fierce mother and a good friend. Even if she had horrible naming ideas. SPEW, honestly? At least when she became an Unspeakable they were the ones who named things.

And her children. Beautiful little Rose and strong, confident Hugo. They were smart, just like their mother, and so playful when they were younger. They were the best godchildren a person could hope for. Even if Hermione never let him take them out to see the dragons. He was sure they would have liked it. Or Rose would have, she was bold and brave and every bit a Griffendor. She would have gone right up to one and asked for a ride. Her brother was a bit more laid back, and probably wouldn't have wanted to get to close.

Then there was Ron, and all the good times they had when they were kids in Hogwarts getting into trouble and causing Hermione to tug her hair in frustration. He was a loud person except when playing chess, and even after all those years Harry still didn't really understand the game. But he also remembered Ron's fickle nature.

Ron wasn't the best of friends but he was very useful to have around anyway. Not that he would ever tell him that. If he ever saw him again. Which was beginning to look very unlikely. It was best to start thinking of something else. Something safer.

Ginny, he had loved her, once upon a time. Back before the war, back when things had been simple and he hadn't been filled with an uncontrollable love of dragons. They had tried getting back together, for a year they had tried to make it work, but in the end it was all for naught. It was nothing against Ginny, but he had loved dragons more, and she couldn't understand his need to move to Romania. To work in the dragon sanctuary. She had had her heart set on him being an Auror and them getting married and popping out a whole horde of little Potters.

And yeah, kids had sounded nice and all, but he just couldn't turn down his dream. Not after everything he had been through.

Harry wished he could sigh because thinking about Ginny always made him do so.

But while Ginny had turned away and left him, Charlie and the workers at the Romanian Dragon Reserve had welcomed him with open arms and pats on the back. Life had been looking up then. And, after a while, it had turned even brighter.

Teddy.

He was smart like his father and had his mother's love and bubbly personality. Unfortunately, he could not walk in a straight line to save his life. Another thing he had picked up from his mother. And while his senses where better than average, everyone was relieved to find that Teddy had not inherited his father's lycanthropy.

Teddy, on the other hand, had though werewolves were cool, as long as they took their potion.

He had also developed a love of dragons as well, but that was mainly Harry's fault. If he hadn't taken the boy on for a ride on Hedwig when he was so young and impressionable. Well, it would have been different, maybe. But he wasn't complaining. Andromeda, on the other hand, was probably still upset about it. He had never seen the older woman so angry before. But it was perfectly safe. Harry would have never let anything happen to little Teddy.

But anyway, Teddy had developed a love of dragons as well. His love just branched off differently. He tended to collect things about dragons, or things that had dragons in them. Books, pictures, even little sculptures of dragons. Hell, Teddy even went further. He turned to muggle movies and video games. And, of course, he had Harry watch and play them as well.

The movies were varied and interesting. Eragon, Dragonheart, Reign of Fire, How to Train Your Dragon, Beowulf. Teddy didn't care if it was meant for kids or not. If a dragon was involved, so was he. He liked the more realistic dragons the best. But Harry, he liked the ones where humans and dragons were friends. Teddy called him a softy.

Maybe he was right.

But the video games were another matter. Most of them had you fighting dragons. Teddy's favorite was a game called Skyrim, the fifth in a series. You had to kill several dragons and steal their souls. Harry wasn't sure what to think about that, but the dragons themselves were kind of badass. If he could be a dragon he would like to have the abilities of the ones on Skyrim. They were just so damn varied and useful.

And the creators had developed their own 'Dragon Language' that Teddy had really gotten into for a while. Harry had had to learn the language as well just so he could know what the heck his godson was saying half the time.

But he still felt badly when he killed one of the dragons in the game. He was certain Hedwig knew as well.

She was very pissy that week.

Harry never played it again.

That, however, did not mean he didn't help Teddy out every now and again. What can he say, the dragons were badass.

* * *

The darkness wasn't quiet anymore, but that wasn't a bad thing. It seemed like there were voices, far out into the dark. But for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out what they were saying. He strained his not-ears as hard as he could, and then tried to listen just a little bit harder. After a while he came to realize that all of those voices he kept hearing were, in fact, just a singular voice speaking in different languages.

It felt like years before he was able to get his brain to understand what the voice was saying, but when he finally managed it he was quite a bit stunned to realize that he was being told stories. The voice was male and he was telling Harry about battles, about dragons and about training for war. It was a little odd but Harry was too happy to not be alone that he didn't really care that much what the voice was talking about.

It was even longer before he realized it might be a good idea to try to talk back. So he did, he told his own stories about dragons and war. He spoke whenever the other voice wasn't talking, so he wasn't quite sure whether the other was actually listening to him or if it had figured out how to leave and had done so. And again, Harry found that he didn't really care. He was just happy that he could hear himself talking again. Even if he was certain that his voice sounded a little bit differently than the vague remembrance he had of it.

But who really cared about little details like that?

He was just happy that he wasn't really alone anymore. He could almost feel himself perk up when the voice came back and started talking again.

He listened intently to the stories of a man named Lawrence who was a captain and very important to the voice. Harry didn't quite know what kind of captain this Lawrence was but it seemed important, and the voice mentioned flying. Harry liked that idea.

He liked that idea a lot.

* * *

He was in an egg.

Harry thought he might have been in shock, but since it had been so long, he wasn't really sure he knew what shock was anymore.

So he would just go along with the fact that he was in an egg and the voice- Temiare or whatever the guy said it was- said he would hatch soon. Maybe that was why the darkness had started to lighten up a little bit. It was a bit more red than it had been beforehand. And the large emptiness had slowly become a rather small and confined wet place.

And he could move, only, half the time, he wasn't sure what it was that he was moving. It felt like there was a lot more of him than there had once been, a few limbs too many. And those limbs that he was used to were longer, stranger. And he was fairly certain his neck wasn't supposed to be able to bend like that.

But then again, after everything he had been through, he wasn't really surprised anymore.

* * *

He was so confined; the egg was way too tight. He had to get out, and he had to get out now.

He was suffocating, he was cramped, and his whole body hurt, and he was hungry. But all of that was outweighed by the singular fact that he had been in there long enough. Harry's patience had worn off a long time ago and now he was going to get out of that god forsaken egg and he was going to breathe actual air.

So he started pushing out with his arms and legs, testing the shell and trying to find its weak spot. He was moving around, furiously, aggravated, shoving and scratching and head-butting the inside of the shell until he finally, finally, heard a faint crack.

Tired, he waited a few moments before attacking once more, this time focusing on the area where he had heard the cracking sound.

It was like being in the emptiness all over again. It must have only been a few minutes but to Harry it felt like eons before the shell was cracked enough that he could see light. It was colorless, but so bright. He felt the longing to be outside and in the air like a physical ache. He drew himself back and gathered as much of his strength as he could before surging forward with every bit of his power.

And unceremoniously breaking out of the shell and sprawling himself all over the grass in a mess. His limbs were every which way and as he tried to concentrate on that white thing in front of his face he was surprised to see it was the spade-like end of a dragon's tail. More importantly, the spade-like end of his tail.

Bloody hell. He was a freaking dragon!

* * *

And while a large black dragon was staring down curiously at the small white hatchling that was cursing out a being known as Fate- in a language that the larger dragon known as Temeraire had never heard before- somewhere else that very same being was raising a glass of wine into the air and saying happily-

"You don't know the half of it!"

* * *

**Chapter Length:** 2960 words

**Another Note:** I hope you all aren't too disappointed in this. I promise that the next chapter will be longer. And you will all find out what Harry the Dragon looks like! Also, to anyone who cares or even reads this thing, I need some help on an idea for Harry the Dragon's name. So if you have an idea drop me a review or PM and don't forget to give me a meaning if it has one. Thank you so much.


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